The Hollow Queen (14 page)

THE ALTAR OF ULTIMATE SACRIFICE, THE CIRCLE, THE GREAT FOREST

The end of spring moving to summer had filled the trees of Tyrian and the rest of the Great Forest with heavy leaf cover, the lacy patterns of newborn foliage that had shadowed the ground when winter had ended growing heavier with the increase in sunlight.

Under normal circumstances, Rhapsody had always been wistful when the baby leaves matured, filling the Great Forest with shade, blotting out a clear view of the sky. As a Liringlas Singer, it was her custom and religious practice to salute the daybreak and the appearance of the first star at sunset with song, so being in the forest in summer was a complication to her morning aubades and her evening vespers. But now, with an occupying army encamped along the destroyed harbor of Port Tallono, just beyond the forest's edge in the west, and a series of raids being undertaken from Sorbold in the southeast, the heavy foliage was a blessing, masking troop movement in the interior of Tyrian and serving as a detriment to their enemy's intentions of sacking the forest.

It was, perhaps, the only advantage the kingdom had.

Now, having said goodbye to her viceroy, Rial, her friends, her commanders, and her people, and having left her contingent, her guards, her mount, and every weapon she had save for Daystar Clarion, the elemental sword of starlight and fire that was affixed by a simple belt of leather to her waist, she stopped in front of the Altar of Ultimate Sacrifice, a relic of great significance to the Filidic religion, waiting. She was attired in the simple, undyed robes of the nature priests, with a hood covering her gleaming golden hair, which now reached only to the base of her neck.

The new-summer wind rustled the leaves around her, billowing through the silent glen.

The Lady Cymrian and Lirin queen closed her eyes, breathing in the rich green scent of the trees mixed with a tinge of smoke. She felt no longing for the time of lacier foliage, both for the practical purposes of the heavier cover and the fact that the part of her that would miss it was far away, in the Deep Kingdom of the Nain.

The Great Forest was the massive woodland area that covered all but the seaside fringe of the western coast of the Middle Continent. In the north above the Tar'afel River and a bit south of it the area was known as Gwynwood, a pristine white wood, as its name implied, that was largely uninhabited and often considered sacred lands. It was known to be the home of the dragon Elynsynos, the ancient wyrm that had allowed the original Cymrian settlers refuge and sanctuary in her previously unsettled lands.

Before she disappeared.

South of Gwynwood in the center of the western coastal region was the Circle and its surrounding towns and villages, the holy lands of the religion of the nature priests known as the Filids, as well as the place where the Great White Tree stood. This area was the most densely populated part of the Great Forest, home to nearly half a million people.

Finally, the southern half of the Great Forest encompassed the realm of Tyrian, known in the ancient language of the Lirin that lived there as Realmalir. Almost twice as many Lirin occupied Tyrian than lived in the Circle lands, but the enormous size of the southern part of the forest made the settlement sparser. It was this land over which Rhapsody had been invested as queen, and where she felt most at home on the continent.

A land to which she had said goodbye with great reluctance.

There was a soft rustling in the trees, an intentionally made sound.

Rhapsody turned and looked behind her.

A figure appeared, a tall man in a forest-green cloak and forester apparel, holding a whitewood staff topped with a golden oak leaf. He came forward and bowed politely.

“Your Majesty.”

She suppressed a smile and took down her hood. “Your Grace.”

Gavin, the Invoker of the Filids, grimaced.

“You're right. Formal address in the mouth of a friend does sound awful, doesn't it?”

“No worse than ‘Your Majesty.' How are you, Gavin? How are Gwynwood and the northern forest faring?”

“Thus far there has been no real incursion, just skirmishes in the thinner forest lands to the west. Most of those inhabitants have taken refuge at the Circle. The invading forces have set up barricades between the forest edge lands and the sea. The barriers are movable, so I suspect the plan is to continue to creep forward until siege can be undertaken.”

Rhapsody nodded. “We are seeing the same tactics. It's most likely going to be a coordinated attack. If it is, though we have some advantages, our forces will be outnumbered eight to one or more. The slaughter will be immense.”

The Invoker shook his head.

“I never would have believed a few short years ago that we would be in this place, defending the Great Forest from attack from Sorbold and its allies. It seems inconceivable.”

“Well, King Achmed and Anborn have always expressed a common contention that there is no such thing as peace, merely episodes of calm between outbreaks of war.” She smiled slightly. “And then, of course, there is Grunthor. He calls those episodes of calm ‘the Boring-as-
Hrekin
Times.' ”

“
Hrekin
?”

“In the human tongue, uhm—‘shit.' ”

Gavin's smile, spare and considered, matched hers. “Well, with any luck, at least he is entertained by what is going on now.”

“Oh, endlessly. As he was outfitting the Bolglands for the invasion we expect there, he was singing as I haven't heard him in years. He averages two new songs a day, most of them grisly, all of them martial.”

“Someone should be enjoying himself, I suppose,” said Gavin. “Are you ready? Sufficiently fed and rested? Your hands most recently washed in the moving water of a river or stream?”

Rhapsody's smile faded and she nodded solemnly.

“Short of invasion from the air, we shall not be disturbed; I have seen to it,” Gavin said.

“Good. If we are interrupted, the best we can hope for is to have to begin all over again. At worst, both your heart and my mind will suffer damage.”

Gavin looked at her steadily. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The Invoker stepped nearer to her and brought his palm to rest on her forehead as she closed her eyes. In turn, she brought her hand to rest on his chest over his heart.

For a long moment they stood, silent, clearing their thoughts.

Then, quietly and methodically, Gavin began speaking the names of each of the forest's tree species and most plentiful plants, using the Old Cymrian words, the language of Rhapsody's childhood. At each invocation, the forest floor seemed to grow warmer, the air vibrating in a clear wind.

Amastiscas.
Small-cone pine.

When the vibration from his words quelled, the Lady Cymrian sang an incantation of protection in return.

Vrith lei malinus mantre kohs—
Fire shall not harm thee.

Slowly, methodically, they sang the soft song of each major living entity's name, the Invoker speaking each title, the Namer following with the protective chant. After a moment, the named species sang in return, its true name vibrating in the air when the protective song had successfully wrapped around it.

With her eyes closed, Rhapsody's mind was wreathed in memory. The song she was wrapping around the forest's trees and plants was the same incantation she had used to protect the Great White Tree, at the previous Invoker's request. Through a sapling of Sagia, the tree's Root Twin that had grown in the enchanted forest of Yliessan in the old world, now in the courtyard of Highmeadow, she had blessed both trees with the melody she had heard the Root singing when she and her two Firbolg friends were passing along the Axis Mundi through the heart of the world itself.

Over and over again she called to the meteorological elements and the characteristics of fire itself, the element from which she wished to protect each species.

Green Earth below thy roots, guard thee

Wide Sky above thy branches, shelter thee

Cool Wind buffer thee

Rain fall down upon thee

Fire shall not harm thee.

Light of early spring, illuminate thee

Heat of summer sun, warm thee

Leaves of flaming color, bejewel thee

But fire shall not harm thee.

With each new protection, the air of the world in which they were standing grew thinner, the heft of their bodies lighter, until, for all intents and purposes, they had become almost nothing but the sound they were generating, ancient and enduring as the Earth itself.

Hours passed. The morning sun moved high into the vault of the sky beyond the thick and cool green leaves, then began to descend toward afternoon. No birds sang, no animals approached; the vibrations they were generating were sufficient to frighten off any creature that might have come within the sound.

Finally, the Invoker named one last plant.

Hymialacia
. Highgrass.

In spite of the exhaustion that was racking her body and spirit, Rhapsody smiled slightly.

It was the name of the species of scrub that she had first Named in front of Achmed and Grunthor, a tall field grass that, in one of her first major acts of Naming, she had used to hide them from a field of Lirinved soldiers in the old world.

Its namesong rang, clear and true, in return.

The Lady Cymrian and the Invoker remained standing, touching each other, until the warmth of the ground had faded, the wind had grown thick with dust again, and the song of birds and the scurrying of forest animals could be heard once more.

Finally they opened their eyes.

The creases around Gavin's eyes seemed deeper now; he looked down at Rhapsody intently.

“Are you all right, m'lady?”

“Yes. You?”

The Invoker nodded slightly. “Come back with me to my house; you must rest.”

“I must go. Thank you, however.”

Gavin shook his head. “With respect, while you are my sovereign, I entreat you to yield to my wisdom in this matter. There is less of you—us—incarnate at the moment than you may believe, and unless you wish to be defenseless and weak on the journey to wherever it is you are going next, you would be well advised to heed me. One turn of the sun will make a great deal of difference in your strength and stamina, Rhapsody.”

The Lady Cymrian nodded, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.

“Well, since you have seen fit to name me properly at last, I will accept your kind offer of hospitality and rest within your walls this night. Thank you.”

The Invoker offered her his arm, and she took it, shaking slightly.

“At least whatever devastation Sorbold wreaks upon the forest, it will not burn.”

“No, it will not burn,” Rhapsody agreed. “That may or may not be a blessing; in a forest fire, your citizens and mine are more likely to prevail than desert and mountain dwellers. But nonetheless, it will not burn.”

“Where is it you are off to now? Back to Tyrian?” he asked as he led her toward the Circle.

“No,” Rhapsody said. “I'm off to meet up with Anborn in Canderre. The troops Ashe has been recruiting and training are finally ready, and it is time to deploy them. As it is, with Talquist's advantage of time, cover, and numbers, it's well past time, very likely. The Lord Marshal plans to leave skeleton garrisons in the cities, emptying them of all save a few soldiers to guard the women and children, and send the rest to the front.”

Gavin guided her carefully over a rut in the forest path.

“So you will be at the front, helping to lead that assault on Sepulvarta?”

Rhapsody shook her head.

“I'm not certain, but I have a suspicion I am going to be left behind this time in one of the cities as well.”

The Invoker swallowed, suddenly even more exhausted than he had been a moment before.

 

16

WEST OF THE PRIME MERIDIAN, WIDE CENTRAL SEA

If that was Merithyn's grave, then I'm closer to Gaematria than I thought,
Ashe mused as he rose closer to the surface, allowing his ethereal form to pass through the soft sunlight shining in diffuse rays in the ceiling of the sea.
Merithyn's ship sundered at the Prime Meridian, so I have passed the centerpoint of the Wide Central Sea
.

He closed his eyes as the sun broke over his face and listened as he hung in the brightening drift. He had been following the lead of the elemental sword of water through the darkness and endlessly similar sea vistas since he had entered the Deep, but now it was humming in an entirely different way.

Instead of singing a harmonic with the element from which it was born, there was a decided difference in its tone, a greeting or warning of a sort that indicated it was noting the presence of magic of another kind than its own.

Ashe's head broke the surface.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for his body to thicken enough for his organs to begin to work again. He floated in the drift, in the rising swells of the open sea, and stared west, following the sun.